Sunday
by InNeedOfInspiration
Summary: Read and find out why Sunday is Steve Rogers' favorite day of the week.


**Hey guys, here is my second Romanogers fanfiction? Hope you'll like it.**

**If you leave a review, that'll be even better ;)**

**Disclaimer. I don't own the characters.**

"_Sitting with her on Sunday evening — a wet Sunday evening — the very time of all others when if a friend is at hand the heart must be opened, and every thing told…" _  
― Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

* * *

Sunday was Steve Rogers' favorite day of the week. It didn't always use to be that way. Sunday was a boring day, well, just like Monday was another boring day. Tuesday was also boring. And so was Wednesday. Thursday was really dull. And Friday and Saturday were just excruciating. Those were the two days that reminded how empty his social life was. When people would go clubbing, have dinner or go to the cinema with friends, he would just stay at home and listen to his old vinyl, or watch the latest Blu-Rays.

It had gotten to a point where he wished he had more missions; these were for him the opportunity to blend in a society he felt unfamiliar with. Sunday used to follow the same pattern. It was the "Day of the Lord" and God knows how many hours Steve spent doing nothing either. Nothingness had gotten the best of him when Natasha once mentioned on a surveillance mission.

"Your sidekick is a bit weak. How about we train together next Sunday morning? We'll do some kickboxing."

She had put her binoculars down and shot him that twinkly glance of hers right after. They both knew. There was no weak sidekick, there was no real need of training, but she had just 'innocently' given him an activity to boost his Sunday. He had responded with a smile and a grateful look in his eyes.

So the next Sunday morning they had trained on the ring. They kicked, they ducked, they sweated.

"Your sidekick has already improved" Natasha panted two hours later.

Steve nodded in silence, his knuckles at his hips.

"Anything else you would like to work on?" she asked with a smirk, partially opening a big door.

He slowly nodded. "I think we could still work a bit on my hook".

"Fine. See you next Sunday, at 9". She passed between the ring ropes and walked out.

"Thank you for that" he finally voiced, a bit embarrassed but greatly thankful.

"I don't see what you're talking about" she exclaimed still heading to the cloakroom "You need some training and I'm the best coach".

And so the next Sunday, they met again. They punched, they ducked, they sweated. And the week after again because Steve seriously needed to improve his uppercut. And then the problem was his roundhouse kick. Finally, after a while, it was implicitly decreed that Steve was a mediocre fighter and the Sunday morning training became a weekly routine.

And so they would kick, they would duck, they would sweat for two hours. And soon they kicked, they ducked and they sweated less.

"So have you asked Sharon yet?" Natasha once randomly asked between two kicks.

And those few words marked the turning point of this formal training session into a socializing

"Do we really have to talk about that?" he sighed.

"I don't know?" she answered. "Can you think of any other subject that doesn't involve killing, remorse or S.H.I.E.L.D? Because I can't think of any."

He thought for a second then shrugged in approval. "For all that, it doesn't make that specific matter of any more interest"

"And that's when I come into the picture" Natasha smirked "Captain America isn't going to stay single for long".

But it actually took longer than expected. Steve had to be one of the fussiest man Natasha had ever seen. Every Sunday she would mention a new candidate: an agent, a neighbor, the cute waitress in the coffee shop down the road, but it seemed like there was no girl good enough to sweep this mass of muscles off his feet.

So every Sunday, during training he would make his weekly report; about why he hadn't asked the neighbor out, about how the date with the cute waitress had ended only twenty minutes later because he had pretended to be expected somewhere else, about how Natasha's friend is "nice but too modern".

"What do you mean 'too modern'?" Natasha asked hopping up and down on the ring.

"After thirty minutes, she whispered in my ear she wasn't wearing panties" Steve justified half amused, half scandalized.

Natasha puffed as she threw an easy punch to dodge.

"What's so shocking?" she exclaimed.

Steve shrugged as he slowly walked round her. "She could have waited until dessert; otherwise it's called indecent"

She smiled at his joke. "Welcome to the 21st century, Steve. We have lost track of time"

"More like value of time" he corrected.

Natasha looked up at him and smiled.

"Sorry about Yvana. She's nice but I agree she can get a bit hasty" she paused a moment then a smirk slowly raised on her lips. "Maybe I can find some newly graduated girl, hopefully by the time she turns 30 you will have agreed to share your first kiss".

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're not funny, I hope you know that."

She proudly grinned, then her eyes lit up in excitement. "And what about Maria Hill? She's hot".

Steve let out a sigh of exasperation before ducking at the approach of her sidekick.

And it went on like this. It reached a point where Natasha was more talking than she was doing kick box. He was the one to boost her every time she would slow down and talk about a new girl. He hated those conversations: not only did it remind him of how uncomfortable he still was with women, even after 95 years, but there was something that annoyed me to be discussing this subject with Natasha though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

During spring, Natasha went missing for an 'indefinite period' as she was on a special mission in Phuket. The following Sunday he went training alone but it was terribly boring, and the next week he just stayed at home. No way to contact her, no way to be sure she was safe, he couldn't stop that fear in his stomach to keep growing. When she finally emerged three weeks later with that simple text "_See you on Sunday. My front kick needs to be improved_", the relief was so much bigger than he had thought even possible, so delectable, he swore to himself he would let her talk about girls without ever complaining again as long as it meant having her in his sight.

When he walked into the gymnasium, he found her already training. Natasha was repeatedly and eagerly hitting the punch bag in front of her with passion, but her senses didn't fail her to hear him approach.

‟Don't worry" she chuffed as she kept throwing punches, gazing at the bag ‟I'll enough energy left for our training session".

He walked up to her with a smile internally knocking out the urge to hold her in his arm; he knew Natasha would hate that. She was tenacious just like Peggy. She was strong and could never accept the idea to be seen fragile or needy.

When he reached her side, the relief was instantly replaced by concern. Although she was looking down at the bag and hitting hard, he immediately saw the black ecchymose that was smudging her cheekbone.

‟Hey" he whispered as he held the punch bag and pulled it aside.

Natasha sighed but surrendered immediately like she was waiting for someone to tell her finally to stand at ease and let her guard down.

She quickly caught her breath and looked up at him. Steve winced when his eyes fell on the cut on her lip.

‟Nat" he murmured as he reached out for her face.

‟I achieved my mission" she said with a puny smirk, trying to reassure him.

He allowed his fingers not to do more than gently graze her delicate and bruised skin. They both looked in each other's eyes for long seconds.

‟Please, don't say anything" she whispered ‟This is my life. I survive."

He nodded in silence. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, he wanted to say she had the choice to stop surviving but he still hadn't himself sorted out how to live. His long sleep, this new world, Bucky, he had stopped living his life like any other random person a long time ago.

He and Natasha, in their own way, with their own paths,were both survivors. They were both fighting ghosts from their past and trying to give a meaning to their present.

‟Don't say anything" she repeated.

She took a slow and hesitant step up and gently pressed her head against his torso. He closed down his arms round her body and held her tight.

That Sunday morning, they didn't train.

* * *

‟And so what about Sarah?" Natasha questionned as she swayed across the ring. ‟How did you date go?"

‟I took her to that italian restaurant you told me about" Steve said.

‟Oh good". She hopped up and down. ‟So what's your verdict?"

‟She's nice and funny. She mentioned a cinema showing old movies and suggested we could go there someday"

‟And are you going to say yes? " Natasha asked.

‟Maybe" he nodded ‟Like I said, she's nice"

‟Well...that's great". She threw a punch ‟ 'Maybe' means she has passed Steve Rogers' ultimate test"

Steve rolled his eyes.

‟So how close to a 'yes' is that 'maybe'?"

‟Well" he started ‟we kissed"

Natasha paused, ‟Oh" she stated emotionless.

She threw an unexpected and swift punch.

‟_She_ kissed me, to be more precise" Steve clarified after ducking.

‟Hmm hmm"

She threw another punch.

‟It was a bit strange, and unexpected" he continued while dodging the spy's attacks ‟but it was pleasant, I guess"

‟That's great, Rogers"

She took a step back before lifting her leg up in the air. He jumped back just before her foot hit him.

‟She works as an intern in Central Hospital"

‟Can we talk less and fight more?". A tough jab almost grazed his chin as he backed down. He exclaimed in surprise.

He raised an eyebrow in surrpise.

‟Nat, are you sure you're alright? Usually, we spend more time discussing my empty social life than actually hitting"

Natasha sighed openly showing her annoyance. ‟Are we here to train or not?"

‟Sorry" he murmured.

He held his fists up and stood still. Natasha charged without blinking. She punched, kicked and ran all around him to make him lose his orientation; She had turned into the black panther he had watched in action on previous missions.

He dodged all the attacks and took steps back numerous of times but the bright red-headed feline was just unstoppable.

She was not Nat, she was Black Window.

She paused a moment and looked up at him, silent.

‟You do realize I'm not Loki, right" Steve teased ‟Nor Stark"

She didn't say a word and attacked again. She slid down between his legs and jumped back up on her legs to catch him in surprise from behind. He grabbed the arm pressed around his neck, she flipped up in the air and escaped.

She tackled him and both fell down on the floor. He rolled over and swapped their positions, he was now laying on top of her.

‟Nat, what's wrong?" He asked as he took a firm grip of her wrists.

She struggled and tried to free herself from his hold but the serum won over her soviet stubbornness. She surrendered and rested her head down on the floor.

‟Enlighten me" he demanded. Both were panting for air, their faces only a few centimeters apart.

‟Is it..." he asked, his mind incapable of grasping the only logical explanation ‟ is it because of my date?"

Natasha sniggered then looked up at him. ‟I guess I'm just very upset to lose my matchmaker promotion. Finding you the perfect girl was certainly the most hazardous job I've ever done." He looked down at her, quiet for a few seconds, feeling her breast heavily going up and down against his chest, though now he couldn't tell if it was because of the physical effort or the rush of emotions she had never showed him before.

‟It's indeed hazardous to try to convince a guy that any other woman can replace the one he's got in mind"

She stared silently, slowly putting all the pieces together. Steve leaned in a bit closer, their lips nearly touching. He was so close, so close to do what he had been secretly craving for for the past months. Natasha remained still obviously not backing down but not leaning in neither. He realized she was still too far from his reach, still not willing to surrender herself to him.

He sighed and rolled sideways lying still on the ring besides her.

‟Steve, you're so screwed" she whispered. He closed his eyes trying to compose himself and sort out the millions thoughts that were jostling in his head. He had taken it too far and most importantly he had been foolish enough to believe Natasha Romanoff would have any sort of romantic interest in him. ‟I am too broken. Too damaged" she finished in an apologetic tone.

His million thoughts suddenly vanished, the havoc inside him turning into an absolute silence. ‟So am I" he said matter-of-factly because it didn't really matter at that moment ‟but when you're there, I deal with it"

He tilted his head towards her, Natasha was intently staring at the ceiling.

‟Shit" she muttered. She swiftly flung herself at him and captured his lips between hers. The kiss was eager and giving away the lust that had been kept hidden but that hadn't stopped to grow bigger throughout the months. Natasha pulled away gasping for air. ‟Doing anything fun tomorrow night?" she asked with a smirk that promised to push the boundaries of 'his value of time' to the maximum.

And this is how Monday became Steve Rogers' second favorite day of the week.


End file.
